Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dear Richie,

Turns out packing your entire life into boxes and moving it across the country is really time consuming and exhausting. Who would have thought? I’ve barely had time to catch my breath in the last couple of weeks but I'm still sorry I haven't been able to find time to call.

I would tell you it will be easier from here on out, but I fear it will be quite the opposite. 

While we’re still getting settled, mom has already found a job. In phone sales. I don’t think I have to tell you what that means in terms of how busy the phone line is right now, pretty much at all times.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of us are going to deal with that. 

I mean, when we were back in Hawkins still, at least I was the only one always making phone calls (and they were all to you). And now? I’ll have to find the few hours in the week mom is actually off the phone and then figure out how to split them with two other people who have also been waiting the whole week to talk to others back home. Even then, what am I supposed to do about the rest of The Party? I want to talk to them as well, and I know I'm not the only one.

Sorry for all this rambling and complaining, this must be incredibly boring for you. I just think at this rate we’re going to have to start making schedules and I'm really dreading that.

At least we can still send letters, that hasn’t changed.

I know sometimes it can be annoying, all the waiting to hear back, but I have to confess that I find it pretty fun. I find myself looking into the mailbox everyday, excited, whenever I’m expecting to hear back from you. Don’t make fun of me for this, but it’s something I look forward to, and I find myself thinking often about what you’ll say next.

Oh, before I say anything else, I should tell you something: El is going by Jane now. 

Jane Hopper, to be specific, by the time we arrived at Lenora Hills the name change was already pretty much finalized. Mom wanted her to be able to start over with an actual name and identity that she felt belonged to her in some capacity.

I’m not sure exactly what strings my mother had to pull to get her legal documents, considering I don’t think she legally existed before now, but I guess it’s best I don’t pry.

Mostly that’s the reason for all this, I think. Even if we think everything is over now, especially now that we’re actually away from Hawkins, it’s safer and better for her to not be linked back to anything that has to do with the lab and all.

I do think it means a little more to her than just that. After all, she got to choose the name and she went with the one her mother had given her and Hop's last name. I don’t want to reopen any recent wounds, so I haven’t talked much about it with her yet, but I guess it’s her own way to grieve the life she couldn’t have, if I were to guess. Thanks to that time we talked when you were here, I feel like I have been able to understand her better, and the ways in which we think similarly of some things. I’m hoping I can do more of that and actually hear her out on what she’s really thinking.

Anyway, all that is to say that I'm making an effort to refer to her as Jane most of the time. It will be better if no one in school notices me calling her something different, but I also see there’s a spark of something in her eyes when we do.

In other news, we’ve started high school! 

Honestly, I wrote the exclamation mark hoping to make myself excited about it but I don’t really know what I'm feeling yet.

I’ve probably thought about starting high school far less than other kids my age. I think maybe we all have, what with the world almost ending every year and all. How am I supposed to think about new classes and teachers and classmates while actively worried I won’t make it till then?

But, I don’t know. I guess when I did think about it, the main thing I thought I'd always have was my friends. And I certainly don’t have those with me anymore. 

It’s not like there aren’t many great things about being away from Hawkins. No more Zombie Boy. Nobody here knows who I am and they have no reason (beyond the more usual ones) to make me feel like a freak, so as long as I don’t stand out, I’ll probably be fine. Better not to give them anything they can throw back at me.

It's just weird. To be here by myself, without The Party, miles away from everyone I’ve ever known aside from my family. It feels…disorienting.

Even if I never fully believed in all of those things people say about high school (Best years of your life? For losers like us? Doubt it) I still thought there would be fun things to come, stuff me and The Party could do together. I do wonder now, though, if it would have been like that anyway, considering the way things had already been falling apart between us.

Just saying, I don’t have high hopes about it.

It will be a little lonely, but at least me and Jane will be sticking together.

It's clear to me now that she’s lost way more than me. She’s never gotten the chance to go to school at all, with other kids our age, or have anything close to a normal childhood.

At least that means she’s still excited, even if I can tell she’s also still trying to find her place.

We don’t have all of our classes together, so I worry about her. I know she probably doesn't need it, seeing she’s the most badass person I know, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But school is a minefield you can’t navigate with the help of magic powers, so I can’t help it.

In a way, I think I'm also clinging to her because she’s the only familiar thing in that place.

We’ve only had a few days of classes though, so maybe we’ll find our footing eventually.

I’m sorry, I feel like all I’ve been doing in this letter is unloading all of my worries on you. I didn’t mean to do that but, if you’ll forgive me if i’m cheesy for a second, you’re the first person I think of whenever anything happens and I’m always looking forward to sharing everything with you. I hope you don’t think that’s stupid, you’re just ridiculously easy to talk to. And I like to. Talk to you, I mean. Even about the things I would usually keep to myself.

What about you? How are things going in Derry? I hope everything is well, or at least, not too shitty. I know everything you’ve told me about how awful things can get there sometimes, but I hope that since you have your friends with you, you’ll at least be able to have each other's backs. That seems like something you guys always try to do, from what you’ve told me.

Is the weather getting colder over there? At this point it must be. Does it rain often in Derry?

Here in Lenora it really doesn’t. It’s been tripping me up a little bit, how clear and sunny it still looks as we get deeper into the fall. It’s like the weather is perpetually mild and the sky is stuck like a clear blue painting, i’ve barely even seen clouds cross it.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

I think that’s something I’ve said often in this letter, but there are many things I’m still figuring out.

Maybe I should feel relieved. The next few months should be a little easier on me here, I know for sure it will not get as cold as Hawkins.

Another part of me feels unsettled. It rattles against me, how unnatural it feels, how different. Just something else I'll have to get used to, I guess.

I should really start wrapping up this letter. Again, I’m sorry for how embarrassingly long it is.

I just…miss you.

I already missed you when you first left Hawkins, but now that I’ve been pulled away from everything else I’ve ever known I feel the absence even more. 

It’s like I’m adrift from the rest of the world.

I’ll see if I can manage to call soon. Hearing your voice always pulls me back down to myself. 

Missing you, Will.

“Do you want to keep this one in your room?” Jonathan said, lifting his Combat Rock vinyl for Will to see.

Will’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he took it in, raising his gaze from the box he had been looking through.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” his brother shrugged as he reached the vinyl case out until Will took careful hold of it. “It’s one of those albums we pretty much share and I feel like you listen to it more than me anyway. If I want to, I'll just borrow it back from you.”

Jonathan’s music collection was pretty modest for someone who spent so much of his time listening to it. Even as a kid he remembered it was hard to see Jonathan out without his headphones if he could help it. That being said, they were pretty limited by their finances, obviously, and something like photography was an expensive enough hobby sometimes that it took most of Jonathan’s savings, at least the ones he didn’t pool back with their mother’s for all of the household’s needs.

That was also why Will had grown pretty much sharing Jonathan’s music taste, which at times had been a source of respite and distraction from all of the issues in their house. Particularly when Lonnie was still around.

Back then, and still, they both only had a few vinyls and cassettes between them which they cherished dearly, and it was always a source of excitement when they could afford a new one. 

As the years went by their music tastes diverged slightly, and they probably would continue to do so, but The Clash was one of those bands he felt attached to because it was Jonathan who had introduced him to them so it would always represent a link between them.

That was only amplified by how desperately he had held onto those memories when he was in The Upside Down. He thought of the way he had ended up singing to himself when he felt himself slipping, like he was losing his mind and whispers seemed to want to infiltrate his mind, and how he had chosen a song that was on this very album.

Considering all of that, and even knowing how Jon had always easily shared most of his music with him, Will still felt the weight of the gesture.

He gingerly set the album aside, next to all of his other things he had already sorted out.

When they first moved away, all of their belongings tightly packed away into a single U-haul truck, Will had felt a little struck by the realization that their entire lives could fit in such a small place. 

Now, with them supposedly already settled and actively attending classes in Lenora, it felt almost ridiculous that there were still boxes to unpack. It felt never-ending sometimes, even with how little he actually knew they had. It was the little things though, all the small things they accumulated over the years and were still unwilling to let go of when packing, even if he felt like they had thrown out and donated plenty.

It explained how starkly different from his room in Hawkins his current one now looked, standing pretty much blank.

There were still a few drawings and posters he had held onto that he had hung up already, but there were so many that had been stuck to his walls for years even after he stopped really caring for them, so he had plenty to replace yet. 

There would be time for that.

That was also the same reason their mother had taken Jane out today while Will and Jonathan finished sorting through most of the stuff still boxed up. They wanted to find new stuff for her room. She had not had the chance to accumulate much stuff of her own while living with Hopper, just based on how short of a time it had been compared to her life before and how she was still learning to find herself and the things she liked.

In part, it had been their mother that came up with the idea, she felt like it would be good for Jane to make the new space her own in a way that helped it feel like a fresh start and help her deal with the pain she still held onto from the loss of the life she had been building with Hopper. A way to start over.

Starting over.

Will wasn’t sure what that meant for him either.

Mostly since it came at the cost of being apart from so many people he cared for, this exchange of being known by everyone for being known by no one.

He was glad he still had his family with him through all of this, now with the addition of Jane. And it wasn’t only because he loved them and was happy they could still be there to support each other. Mostly, now that they’d all had to uproot their lives and leave behind their fair share, he selfishly felt a little comforted by the thought that both Jane and Jonathan would understand his current struggle with a long-distance relationship. Even when he knew that very fact also made finding time to call more complicated for him, having to coordinate with both of them too.

It was not something he was ready to share with Jane. Not yet, at least. In the same way he also couldn’t bring himself to tell his mother, but, at least Jon knew.

He wondered if, in a way, giving him Combat Rock, was a way to reach back to him when he knew Will was struggling, a gesture of support. Will wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Since he was the only one aware that the thing between Richie and Will went beyond friendship, he had had his eye on Will’s emotional state since Richie left, Will noticed.

“Hey, Jon?” he questioned tentatively as he put aside another box, filled mainly with his things to take back to his room.

“Yeah?”

Will kept his gaze down on the boxes, even as he saw his brother turn back towards him out of the corner of his eye.

The thing was, even when he was actively aware that Jon knew, it didn’t make it any easier for Will to talk about. He still couldn't bring himself to say the words, to acknowledge any of it out loud. He’d feel guilty about it; after all, he was not ashamed of Richie, but he knew the other boy was stricken by a similar paralyzing fear when it came to all of this. It was why their relationship still stood vaguely defined, held together by the fact that they both knew on some level what they truly meant to the other.

“Are...are you and Nancy doing okay with the long distance?” he asked instead of voicing any of his actual thoughts, trying to tackle the conversation sideways, as it were.

He finally turned back to look at his brother who had a mildly surprised look on his face at Will’s question. Clearly, he had taken him off guard. He probably hadn’t expected Will would ask about that.

“Uh-um. We're fine,” he said, uncomfortably shifting a little before clearing his throat. “We’ve called. A couple of times.”

“Right,” Will said, nodding at him. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was even hoping to get out of this conversation. He certainly hadn't thought much ahead, having little idea of what he was even trying to say. Maybe he just wanted to get out of his head for a second, hear someone else talk about the things that worried him that he couldn’t verbalize. “It’s hard, isn’t it? But- but you can still find ways to make it work because it's…worth it.”

Jonathan went practically still as he stared at Will more intently, nodding slowly in response even as his eyes remained focused and questioning.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But this isn’t about Nancy, is it?”

Will winced on instinct, but soon enough he was simply sighing and nodding in resignation, his shoulders dropping quickly from the defensive stance they had risen to the moment he posed the question.

Jonathan walked closer to him with a sympathetic expression on his face as he laid his hands on his shoulders.

“We’ll be okay. All of us will,” he promised, squeezing slightly in a reassuring gesture. “We’ve been through way worse, haven’t we?”

Will laughed a little, though there was a wet quality to his voice as he did, from the tears he refused to shed.

“Okay, come here,” his brother said as he brought him closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a gentle hug. Will held on to one of Jon’s sleeves, allowing himself to be comforted this once. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will. And if you need anything? You know I have your back.”

Will nodded one more time, stepping back from the embrace wordlessly as his brother gave him a final parting pat on one shoulder.

He wanted to believe in those words so badly. He was so scared.

Scared he’d lose his friends.

Scared he’d lose Richie.

Both things were terrifying, even if they were so in very different ways.

But he guessed Jonathan was right. After everything they'd been through, a little distance from the people they loved would not break them. They wouldn't let it.

My mostest dearest Willy,

I know I must not be seeing right, because there’s no way you apologized three (THREE!) different times in your last letter about how much you were writing and the things you were rambling about. (Out of four total times you apologized in it, by the way. I counted.)

Don’t do that again.

Let me put you at ease right now, I want to hear anything you feel like saying to me. Or maybe, in this case, I should say I want to read whatever you write. Same thing, anyway. No matter how mundane or how stupid, I want to know what you’re doing and what you’re thinking. 

You said you’re always waiting for my letters? Well, I do the same with yours.

Look at you, making me into a proper reader, actually being happy when I open an envelope and I see how much you have written. Soon enough you’ll find me making my way through one of those dense and overly convoluted fantasy novels you love so much, with how fucking excellent at reading you’re training me to be.

I'm being genuine, by the way. This is not me complaining, I’m thrilled when I see those walls of text. I know, I can barely believe it myself.

But whatever, prepare yourself for something thick and long coming your way…these letters I’m going to send you.

Did you think I was going somewhere else with that sentence? If you did that’s not my fault. But I guess it’s not yours either, obviously if you have me on the mind you’re going to be thinking of my better attributes.

But enough about that.

What I’m trying to say is that if you think you’re the only one capable of stuffing those envelopes full of pages, you have another thing coming. I’m going to cram so many written pages in every letter I send you that the post office is going to make me pay extra. 

They’re going to say: “Sir, this is a package, not a letter. This thing is practically round.” And to that I’ll be like “I’ll pay whatever, my good sir. Don’t you see my lover is practically wasting away from the lack of my affections?” And then they’ll go: “Wow! You’re such a generous and thoughtful lover, of course we’ll mail this for you, free of charge!”

I think I got a little sidetracked there, my bad.

I do have to say, as much as I love reading your letters and as much as I enjoy getting to write to you too, I do kinda prefer phone calls over them.

I mean, look at all of this comedy gold! What do you mean I don’t get to hear your reaction in real time? What do you mean I have to wait for your next letter to find out what you thought? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN JUST CHOOSE NOT TO TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF EVERY SINGLE THING I’VE SAID?

It’s criminal, truly. I know damn well your face will be turning red at several points while you read this, and you’re telling me I don’t get to see it? I don’t even get to hear you groaning and telling me to shut up? You know I’ve learned to hear the roll of your eyes via phone, don’t you?

But, alas, I’ll have to suffer from the lack of immediate feedback and focus on training my monologuing skills instead. Don’t worry, pumpkin, I promise I have those in spades too. I think anyone who calls himself (or aspires to be) a comedian has to be a little bit in love with the sound of their own voice.

That being said, though, I miss the sound of yours. 

I’ve been thinking about our little dilemma and about what we can do about your mom hogging the phone line.

Does she work the same hours she’d do if she wasn’t working from home? I have to imagine she’d be done before dinner, at least. I figured, couldn’t you sneak out of bed after everyone’s asleep and call me?

I know it will be later for me but I really don’t mind staying up for one night if I get to talk to you. It’s not like I’ve been sleeping well anyway, you know, without you.

So, here’s my plan: You sneak to the phone at about 11 pm, if you guys have the same routine as when you were in Hawkins, everyone should be out by then. It will be like 2 am for me, but I can lower the volume dial on the ringer. I know my parents already turn the ringer off for the one in their room during the night, but it will still make some noise so I´ll have to be waiting by the one in the living room. And I’ll have to be fast.

I figure it’s worth a try anyway. How does Friday sound to you? I’ll get to sleep in the next day and I’ll probably actually get some sleep that way. We’ll see how it goes.

And, hey! If I timed this letter right, you won’t have time to reply before then, so…guess that means I’ll be hearing from you. You wouldn’t leave me hanging. Would you, William?

I can’t believe I have to pencil myself into your busy schedule. Wow, a man in high demand, aren’t you?

As for Derry…Shit as usual. But, like you said, I’m here with The Losers so it’s not all bad. Just as bad as it normally is. It’s Hell on Earth but ah! That’s home!

And yes, it's been raining a shit ton. I'm like a cookie dipped in milk for too long, I spend everyday so soggy and gross that I'm afraid I'm going to disintegrate into the water at some point.

It’s not like starting high school has made much of a difference. For any of us. 

I mean, some of the dickheads that followed us around were already in high school before we were, so if anything, we see them more now. So yeah, some are the same as ever and some are new faces, but they’re all shit, so, who cares? Just dick-breathed fuckheads that can only get it up at the thought of stepping on freshmen.

They don’t even have the courtesy of getting any new material. If you’re going to insult me, please do me a favor and don’t bore me. I’m over it. I barely flinch when they shout slurs at me at this point. 

Whatever, onto better things.

Please, congratulate Jane on the change name for me and the newly forged identity, stick it to those government assholes!

I could probably tell her myself if I also manage to sneak in a call at a normal time for all of us. I still have to explain to her what an innuendo is, I can’t let her go on like this, deprived of my wit. What a shame.

Speaking of depriving people and things that are a shame…

If the people in Lenora aren’t as clinically brain-dead as the ones in Hawkins, I'm sure the whole school will end up loving you. Don’t do them or yourself the disservice of intentionally keeping away from everyone. Come on, what a travesty. You’re a cruel man, Byers, to deny them the chance to get to know you.

You’re supposed to be starting over, aren’t you? Try stuff! New stuff, even. Join a club or something, at least. Even if you don’t make friends, you can get some friendly acquaintances.

Are you going to isolate yourself on purpose? Because you feel like you don’t get to have other friends than the ones you had to leave behind? That’s stupid. 

Hell, I’m sure there’s an art club or something you could join if you want to stick to something familiar. It will probably be full of losers, too.

If you want to broaden your horizons you can even try a sport.

I know, I know, shocking that I'm suggesting this when I know how much of a chronic nerd case you are, and I know those are all allergic to exercise. A little birdie told me that Sinclair was joining the basketball team, though, so I suppose there can always be small miracles. (The birdie was called Max, If you were wondering.)

I don’t think I can imagine you doing something like basketball, though. Or football, god forbid. Not trying to insult you, babe, but I don’t think throwing yourself at a pack of jocks is ever going to end well for you.

But there’s gotta be other things, right? I mean, it’s California, aren’t you guys basically obligated to have a volleyball team or something?

If not you can always join the cheer team, which is something I'm saying totally seriously and with no hidden agenda. Completely unrelated, if you did, would you send me a picture in your uniform?

Okay, I’m mostly joking about that one. But I do think it would be good for you to try to do something that isn’t just keeping your head down, as you said. I don’t know. Get out, have fun! I’m not there to drag you around so I’m asking you to do it for me.

I’m sure if you tried you could even find a few social rejects to band together. We’re everywhere! And they’d be lucky to have you.

At the risk of being corny, I often wish you were here with me. I know some of the shit here would be more bearable if you were around.

I just know The Losers would love you. Did I ever tell you that? I thought about it for the first time pretty much the day I met you. It was just that glaringly obvious to me.

I’ve told them a little about you but sometimes it feels terrifying. I don’t know how to talk about you without going all gooey and soft and I can’t help but feel like they’ll see right through me.

I miss you.

I think about you often.

Selfishly, I think about you the most whenever I have nightmares. You’ve totally ruined me. I learned that I could get a full night’s sleep with you next to me and now you’re on the opposite corner of the country. What the fuck? How’s that fair?

I hope the weather and the change of scenery make the nightmares a little better for you. Have they so far? Have you been sleeping well? 

I hope so. 

I guess I’ll be able to ask you directly if we talk on Friday. When we talk on Friday.

I can’t wait to hear your voice again.

Yours, Richie.

Will sneaked quietly out of his room. Being Friday, it wouldn’t necessarily be strange for someone to still be awake at this time, but not in his house. Richie was absolutely right about that. 

They still hadn’t lived in Lenora for long so it wasn’t like any of them had much of a social life outside of these walls. Even then, they had always been mainly homebodies.

Even as he made his way to the phone, the sound of his footsteps as silent as he could make it by his socked feet but still audible to his ears in the eerily quiet house, he wasn't sure how on board with this plan he really was.

Did he want to talk to Richie? Oh god, yes. Desperately.

But there were so many issues with what they were doing.

It wasn’t because Will was scared of being caught. He was pretty sure Jonatahn wouldn’t mind and that he’d even cover for him if he caught him. Even his mom wouldn’t care that much. She would probably scold him because of the time and then tell him to call at a more reasonable hour, mostly because she’d worry about the lack of sleep, both for Will and for Richie.

And, well, that was something that worried Will too.

Another thing Richie had been right about. He would have absolutely fought him on this plan if he hadn’t set it up as he did, leaving Will little opportunity to protest. But Will couldn't not commit to the plan if he knew Richie was waiting by the phone at an ungodly hour.

He couldn’t even be too mad about it. 

He knew what Richie was doing with this. He knew Will would feel guilty about agreeing to his plan, that he wouldn’t want Richie losing sleep over him and he’d refuse and refuse because he’d feel selfish if he gave in. And so, Richie put them in a position where he would be awake either way, so the shitty thing would be not to do it.

Reluctantly, he felt thankful.

And here he was now, carefully typing Richie's number into the phone – which he had memorized by this point – and hoping the fact that everyone in the house usually closed their bedroom doors at night would be enough for the sound of his voice not to wake them.

He anxiously listened to the first beep of the line, nerves churning in his stomach like roiling waves. He couldn’t let it ring long in case the plan hadn’t panned out, he was putting a lot of trust in Richie being able to set up everything as he’d said. If there had been any issue, this could end with Will waking Richie’s parents and Richie getting scolded and probably banned from trying something like this ever again. 

Also he didn’t want Richie’s parents to have any reason to think badly of him.

Jesus, now he was thinking about how mortifying it would be if one of them picked up and he had to explain why he was calling, and how terrible he’d feel if he woke the whole house in his desperation to hear this one boy’s voice.

His worries turned out to be unfounded because there was no second ring, the line clicking immediately after the first, making Will inhale sharply in an involuntary gesture as his anxiety turned into far more pleasant excitement.

“Richie?” he couldn’t help but gasp out quietly as the call connected.

“Will.” His voice drifted softly from the receiver as Will pushed it as close as he could against his ear, hoping simultaneously to muffle the sound and to hear him as clear as possible. Like if he pressed it close enough he could bring his voice directly into his ears, a substitute to how badly he missed his touch. “Knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging. I had to come up with a plan worthy of Hawkins’ very own resident bad boy.”

Will chuckled helplessly as breathy and noiseless as he could manage, bringing a hand up to cup his mouth against the mouthpiece.

“Well, I guess it would be Lenora’s resident bad boy now.”

“Only if you get off your ass and actually cause some mischief. I’m sure you’ll excel at it.”

“Whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes even though Richie wouldn’t be able to see it. He wondered if he really could hear it or if he was just messing with him when he claimed that. “How reckless and daring of me to make a late phone call on a Friday night because I'm staying in the whole weekend.”

Richie tutted at him.

“That’s because you haven’t taken my advice yet, have you? Put yourself out there and soon enough you’ll be filling me in about whatever depravity goes on in California high school parties.” Maybe Richie did have a point about being able to tell when he rolled his eyes, because in the back of his mind Will would perfectly picture Richie’s eyebrows wiggling.

“In a party they’d invite freshmen to? I imagine not much at all,” he scoffed. “Besides, I don’t know what I’d do at a party anyway. I wouldn’t last long before I got overwhelmed and wanted to sneak out, except I would probably feel too awkward about leaving early so I'd stand in a corner by myself for an uncomfortable amount of time.”

“Wow, even in your imaginary social life, you don’t get social. That’s so fuckign sad. Truly levels of being a loser never seen before.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” he whisper-hissed.

“Oh, yeah. Whisper sweet nothings into my ear.”

There was something about the situation, about the way they talked, their voices breathy and low over the line and the quiet air around them that felt electric. It was like Richie's voice flowed directly through his ear and into his brain, spreading a tingling feeling around his head. He pushed past that feeling with a small shiver, biting down a smile as he closed his eyes, immersing himself in the other boy’s voice.

“What about you?” he asked, not humoring Richie’s latest words. “Are you planning any parties? Expanding your social circle at all?”

“Oh, fuck no,” he snorted. “I already managed to find the small handful of people in this town that aren’t completely intolerable. I’m not wasting my time or my breath on anyone else around here.”

Will shook his head slightly, with a mild exasperation that bordered outright amusement.

He had almost forgotten how good it felt to be able to talk to Richie like this, how exhilarating to go back and forth with him, how giddy he got whenever one of his bitchy responses made Richie’s smile widen like he had just said the best thing he had ever heard. Even then, the phone made for a poor imitation of what being with Richie was like. He longed to see those reactions up close, the way his eyes lit up and his mouth curved upwards instead of being forced to piece them together through the slight changes in his tone.

However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying getting letters from Richie. When seeing how long the last one had been he had felt much less self-conscious about his own desire to spill everything about his life to him. 

Whatever form it took, he loved getting to hear from Richie.

Aside from that, there was still a thrill he felt whenever he remembered Richie’s sign-off on that latest letter. Yours. What a simple word. It was a standard way to close a letter, he knew that. He knew that it didn’t really mean what Will wanted it to mean, but it still drove him a little crazy as if it was some sort of declaration or confession.

He also couldn’t get over the way Richie had referred to them as lovers in it. 

He had been joking, obviously, but what was the right word to describe what they were to each other, when they hadn’t given it a name?

God, Will felt pathetic.

“I don’t see why I should take your advice then. Maybe that’s how it is for me too, and it will only suck if I try to talk to anyone.”

“Ah, but do as I say, not as I do. Always apply that when it comes to me.”

“I understand the not doing as you do part…I’m not so sure about doing as you say.”

“I just don’t want you to be like, sad, or whatever,” Richie mumbled, the teasing drained out of the conversation to be replaced with a tender earnestness. He could picture him vividly now; the way his eyes would skitter away, the way he’d bring his hand up to adjust his glasses nervously, pushing them against his face.

“I mean-” Richie started again, the performance seeping slowly back into his voice. “You’ve been struck down by a case of lacking me in your life. That’s fatal.”

“It really is,” Will said, more honest than he’d intended.

It settled under his ribs like a burning lump of coal, the need to see him, to be able to be near him again. His voice was like balm applied over a still burning wound, the relief he’d gotten had only thrown into the light how stark the hole he’d left behind was. All he could do was hope they could eventually come up with some plan to meet up in the near future.

He laughed to himself as Richie sputtered on the other side of the call.

“Damn, Byers. Warn a guy. I can’t have you giving me heart palpitations in the middle of the night.” He stopped for a second. “Not if they’re not the fun kind.”

“Oh my god.” He covered his face with his hand, feeling his burning skin as he inevitably grew flustered at Richie’s boldness and intentional inappropriateness.

“Things you would be saying if I was there.”

“Richie!” He hissed as quietly as he could manage, trying not to choke on his strangled words.

“Yeah, that’s another one. You got the tone all wrong, though, sweetheart. It should sound something more like: Oh, Richie.”

“How have you gotten worse since we last talked?” he tried cutting him off, an edge of hysteria to his voice. “I think this is definitely worse.”

“Hormones?” Richie simply asked.

In a way that never used to happen to Will before he met Richie, his mouth opened before the thought was even done forming.

“Yeah, they tend to do that.” He muttered, closing his eyes in dismay as he processed what he had just said. 

There was a moment of silence as Richie thought his words over and realized what he’d meant. And then Will was wincing as a far too loud cackle came through the receiver before Richie muffled it, presumably behind his hand.

Sometimes it was just like this with Richie, like his brain patterns fell into a completely different wavelength to match his and he found things coming out of his mouth he could have never imagined saying before, or to anyone else.

It wasn’t as if thoughts like that never crossed his mind, jokes that were maybe a little crass or inappropriate. It was just that the idea of actually saying them out loud felt horrific. But not with Richie. Richie, who, since Will still said things like that very rarely, lit up in tickled surprise whenever he did. Richie, who obliterated Will’s mind-to-mouth filter whenever he was around.

“You meant what I think you meant, right? Like, you weren’t just saying hormones do that, you were joking because it sounded like I said whore moans-”

“You’ll never know,” Will responded in a monotone voice.

“Oooohhh, god. I forgot I totally corrupted you. You sound so nice and proper in your letters.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, trying to fight against the embarrassment that was climbing back over him. “When I’m writing those I actually have time to think straight, which is hard to do when I’m talking to you.”

“Oh-ho. I bet it’s hard for you to think straight around me. Are you…gasp! Flirting with me?”

“No.” Will tried not to smile. “That was just a statement. I could flirt better than that.”

“Well. You know I have to hear that, now. Lay it on me, babe.”

Will’s mind went fully blank.

“Um…”

How did one even flirt? He wasn’t sure he had ever done it on purpose. Most of the things he counted as him flirting with Richie in the past were more based on charged glances and brief touches like when he fixed his glasses or held his hands. For the longest time, he was just focused on keeping the plausible deniability between the things he said and did, skirting around how platonic or non-platonic it could be seen from Rcihie’s point of view.

He had no idea what to actually say when he was being clear and intentional with it.

“Well?” Richie asked. “I’m waiting.”

Will exhaled slowly. Maybe he couldn’t be as bold as Richie was with the thinly veiled come-ons and the suggestive jokes but he could, at least, manage being sincere. That would have to do.

“You know-” he started, cringing at his own unsteady voice. “Did you notice you left one of your shirts behind?”

“Ah! So that’s where that went.” He exclaimed and Will could practically hear the wicked grin spreading across his face. “Are you going to say you stole it? Naughty.”

“No!” he emphasized. “I never meant to keep it. I was going to give it back. I just…forgot. You forgot too.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “Where are you going with this, then?”

Will swallowed before huffing lightly in his embarrassment, even as he had already decided he was going to admit this.

“You said you slept better when we were together? Well, me too. Sometimes…Sometimes, when I can’t sleep and I really miss you…I’ll put the shirt on over my sleep shirt. It’s-” He lowered his voice even more, surprised that it was even possible, confessing quietly through the phone. “It’s the closest thing to having you hold me.”

Will waited with bated breath as the silence extended, nervous about Richie’s response. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. God, he probably thought Will was being weird. He had fucked this up so bad.

“Wow,” was all the Richie responded, breathy and barely audible.

“Sorry. Forget I said that, it was weird. I can send you the shirt back if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no. Please, keep it. I’m the furthest thing from uncomfortable. I’m just- I’m processing.”

“Proccesing?”

“Uh, yeah, Will. I’m trying to make my last two functioning neurons rub together and form a thought, you just fried my whole brain.”

Will absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the phone’s receiver.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, man. It’s really fucking good.” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Jesus. Long distance fucking sucks. How are you allowed to say things like that to me and I can’t even kiss you about it?”

“You could consider it revenge for all the insane things you always said to me,” Will responded even as a wide smile took over his face.

Richie blew a raspberry over the phone, making Will cringe as the harsh sound spiked the volume levels, the noise screeching against his ear.

“As if you aren’t dying to kiss me too. ”

“Maybe,” Will said, trying to affect nonchalance.

He laughed quietly, covering his mouth with one hand as Richie groaned in frustration.

“You’re killing me over here,” he sighed overexaggeratedly. “You know…If we’re both having trouble sleeping anyway, we could make these late phone calls a thing.”

“I don’t know,” Will hesitated. “It’s much later for you than it is for me. I would get it if you called on a night you had specifically woken up or couldn't sleep or something, but on a regular day, you’re just losing sleep for no reason.”

“Hey, talking to you is already a pretty good reason,” Richie said, making Will smile softly. “But maybe you’re right. What if it was that way? If we could call whenever we have a shitty night?”

Will went still, listening intently, his curiosity mounting.

“What are you thinking?”

“Does your room have a phone jack?”

“Yeah?” Will responded hesitantly. “I think so.”

“If we found some cheap phones for our rooms and we plugged them in and we made sure the ringer was turned down pretty low while the ones in the rest of the house were off… It would make it easier to call  without having to plan it every time. Easy peasy butt squeezy.”

“That’s not-” Will sighed before he focused back on Richie's plan. “...it could work. We’d have to make sure to only let it ring once, though. If we both happen to be awake, we can hear it and call back.”

“See, you’re already thinking ahead of me. That’s my favorite criminal mastermind.”

“I think most of this was your plan, not mine. Who’s really the mastermind in this situation?”

“We can both be. We’ll be partners in crime.”

“Okay,” Will laughed softly before he allowed himself to actually consider it. It would be nice if they could manage to make this work, if on nights where the memories got too real and his dreams felt even more oppressive than reality he could reach back for comfort and find Richie waiting for the same. “This really might actually work.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. When has a plan of mine not been excellent?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The time you wanted us to jump from the quarry?” he teased playfully.

“I was working with incomplete information!” Richie complained. “And might I remind you, you had plenty of fun anyway. I remember you got to ogle me and everything.”

“There was no ogling happening.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Right, whatever you want to tell yourself, Richie,” he snickered to himself.

“So, are you in or not?”

He doubted for a moment, but he knew he had already made his decision. There was no way he could turn this down.

“Oh, what the hell, sure. I’m in.” He laughed as Richie whooped on the other side of the line before remembering himself and whooping again in a much lower voice.

Will watched Jane out of the corner of his eye as they pushed past the swarm of teenagers clogging the high school's hallway.

It had been a while now since they had started attending classes here and not much had changed. They walked together to the classes they shared where they sat side by side, then sat together in the cafeteria, in a corner of whichever empty table they could get to before they were overrun by other groups or clubs. Basically, they mostly kept to themselves.

Will could tell that most of Jane’s excitement over attending school with everyone had begun to dwindle, flickering like the flame of a candle reaching the end of its wick. She had found that all of the years of schooling their peers had over her actually made it pretty hard for her to catch up in many areas. Will did his best to help her, particularly with the classes they shared, which allowed them to do their homework together and for Will to explain anything she was confused about or behind on.

This did have its limits, though.

They didn’t share every class and, even for the ones they did, Will wasn’t a genius the way someone like Dustin was so he had his own struggles with some of the subjects, enough that there were things he just couldn’t clarify for her.

Aside from that, the whole socializing thing wasn’t going too well either. 

Will had already resigned himself to that reality for himself, but with Jane it was different. She had been intentionally kept away from a normal life for so long that she was eager to get to experience these things, and her lack of experience with other people, particularly with other people their age – who could be some of the cruelest a person could get – put people off in some way neither of them really knew what to do about.

Sometimes she looked at Will with a searching gaze but without actually asking anything  after someone threw her an odd look when she tried talking to them, like she hoped Will could tell her what she was doing wrong, how to fix it. He wished he had anything he could say to help her but he had been wondering how to do the same thing for years, and he still hadn’t found the answer.

One time, she actually asked Jon for advice when he picked them up after class, about how she could make more friends or at least if she was doing something wrong when she talked to people. 

He wasn’t the best person to ask either and they just had to sit awkwardly in the car as they all realized that Jonathan had also never had any real friends during high school before he got closer with Nancy.

So that’s what she was working with, a brother with no friends and one who only had any because while he was sitting around quietly, someone came into his life and straight up asked him to be, dragging him along into a whole friend group eventually. And neither of them had any idea what being a normal person was supposed to mean, or how to achieve it since it was something they had given up on a long time ago.

That was why, as they passed one of the corkboards in the hallway, filled with pamphlets and posters for all clubs and after school activities Lenora Hills High School had to offer, Will stopped for a second, his eyes scanning over all of it. As he did, Jane stopped beside him, her gaze flickering between the board and Will inquisitively.

He had been thinking about what Richie had said. About doing things, trying things.

He still wasn’t too sure for himself but maybe it could be something good for her instead, though he’d probably join whatever with her anyway, unwilling to leave her alone when he had noticed she was beginning to struggle. Maybe finding something to focus her attention on, something that kept her mind off her perceived failures in understanding academics and people could bring back her initial excitement.

“I was thinking…” Will said to her, having to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the thrum of the students walking around them. “Maybe…we could do one of these things?”

Jane looked at him for a long moment before her eyes settled more firmly on the board, stepping forward to stand in front of it shoulder to shoulder with Will.

“Why?” she asked.

“Some advice Richie gave me on his last letter. He said we should be putting ourselves out there, that joining clubs or stuff like that is some way we could actually have fun and maybe meet some new people.”

She nodded slowly as she considered what Will had said, her eyes turning more curious as she examined the posters up on the wall.

“Do you want to?” Will asked this time. “We could choose something together, so we wouldn't start alone either.”

She smiled gently, the pleasant expression emerging after she had spent the day looking mostly concerned and withdrawn was like the sun finally emerging from behind the clouds on an overcast day. Will felt proud of himself in that moment, and endlessly grateful for Richie.

“Yes. Maybe,” she said, turning back to him. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“Oh, um-”

Will hadn’t really thought that far ahead. While he had decided it was a good idea and something worth pursuing as Richie had said, the choice seemed daunting and any path would only lead him to further anxiety, he was sure. But it could be worth it, and it could help Jane, so he was pushing through the discomfort anyway.

“Can we choose anything?” Jane asked, tuning once more towards the board and letting her eyes scan over it.

“Maybe not anything,” Will said but Jane had already closed her eyes and thrust her hand forward until her index finger landed on top of one of the posters.

“What about this?” she asked as she opened her eyes.

It was volleyball. 

Well, not the worst thing she could have landed on but they could still talk about this.

“Good choice,” a voice behind them said, making Will startle as they both turned towards the sound.

It was a girl Will had seen around in a few of his classes though they had never talked and he couldn't say he had even paid any particular attention to her. He was aware, in a distant way, that she was rather beautiful. He could acknowledge that, even if for him it was more of a fact than anything else and he lacked any actual interest in her appearance. 

“I’m actually in the team too, you know,” she kept talking. Will wasn’t sure why this was happening or why she had chosen to talk to them at all, but beside him Jane was perking up with excitement so he didn’t want to question it too much. “It’s coed too so you could both join. I’ve noticed you guys around. You don’t do anything separately, do you? If you weren’t both so cute you’d give really creepy twin vibes, like the ones from The Shining.”

“Uh, what?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughed. “I hope that wasn’t rude. I know twins are usually close, it’s cool.”

“Oh. We’re not-”

Before he had finished processing what she was saying she reached forwards to hold one his hands between her own. His skin appeared sickly pale when held next to her richer dark one, like the zombie everyone always told him he was.

“You have slender fingers, we could use a new setter in the team.”

“Um-”

This was probably the weirdest interaction Will had ever had in his life. 

Before any of them could say anything else, the bell started ringing and the girl retreated, dropping Will’s hand.

“Well, think about it. It would be nice to have you both,” she said finally as she waved and left to her next class.

Will blinked, still overwhelmed and confused, before turning to his sister, who was looking at him with a small sparkle shining in her eyes.

“We’re joining,” she said.

That was that, he guessed.

Dear Richie,

If you like it when my letters run long I guess I’ll stop worrying too much about it. Don’t feel obligated to do the same, but please do continue if you want to. I couldn’t stop smiling after I opened the last one and saw all that you had written to me.

As an aside, not all fantasy is long and convoluted. You should know that. I know there’s some decent overlap between video games, comics and fantasy. If you find long books tedious to read or you have trouble getting through them, there’s other options. Fantasy is a whole genre and I genuinely think there’s something for everyone in it. If you can find The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett, you should give it a read. I can’t be sure you’ll like it but it’s short and it’s funny and I think it’s probably far from what you would consider regular fantasy since it doesn’t take itself seriously at all. 

If you do end up reading it at some point, I would like to hear about it, though.

Going back to the letters thing, I’m glad you like receiving them as much as I do when they come from you. You didn’t make fun of me for being corny the last time so I’m risking being even more so now, I find letters kind of romantic. 

I don’t know what it is about it, I guess whenever I’m reading what you sent I can’t help but imagine you bent over your desk writing out your thoughts, thinking about me as you do so. You can’t deny that part this time, you already admitted you were thinking about me in your last letter. 

In case there was any doubt, I’m often thinking about you too.

You were right about the phone calls, though. It was so nice to be able to hear your voice, and to have a proper conversation where you could reply to the things I said in the moment. I can’t believe how long we ended up staying on the phone for, I’m tempted to blame you for it but I know perfectly well I was enjoying myself too much to hang up either.

You should see the way everyone looked at me when I didn’t emerge from my bedroom until it was practically noon on the next day. I couldn’t exactly explain that I had been on the phone past 2 AM so they probably ended up worried that I’ve been having more nightmares now that October is almost over and we’re so close to the anniversary of my disappearance. That’s not necessarily untrue either, I guess.

The warm weather has been nice, they’re not as frequent as they used to be. But it’s not enough to dispel them completely.

On that note, I have the phone set up in my room already. I did have to ask my brother for help since I didn’t really have enough money saved so I owe him one. He had promised already that he would help me out with anything when it came to this. I didn’t tell him about the part of the plan that involves late night calls, he just figured if I take your calls in my room I’d have more privacy, especially with everyone always around the house. Mom and Jane don’t know about the phone at all, I don’t want to have to explain myself and I know I’ll probably get flustered if I try to.

It sucks to know that you still have to deal with people like that in Derry, but I’m glad you don’t have to face it alone. I would love it if you told me more stories about your friends and the kind of things you get up to together, especially if you think they’d like me. We’ll have to figure out a way for me to visit you at some point, I'd really like to get to know them.

You’ll probably enjoy hearing this next bit but I ended up taking your advice, despite all my reservations and my common sense. (I’m mostly joking when I tell you your ideas are bad, you know that right? It’s true that you made my summer the best I’ve ever had.)

But yeah, me and Jane have started doing volleyball.

I’m still, like you said, not very athletic, but I have to admit the couple of times we’ve gone have been kind of fun. 

Most of the team is nice and they’re far from jock types, I wonder if that has to do with the sport itself or with the fact that it’s coed. There’s this one older girl in the team that always wears dark lipstick that told me volleyball has been recommended and used in the rehabilitation of juvenile delinquents. I jokingly asked her if that was why she was there and she just smirked and winked at me. So, whatever that meant.

There’s also one other girl in our same year that pretty much insisted we join and she’s been pretty nice to us. Jane is convinced it’s because she has a crush on me but I think she has to be reading into that, she barely even knows me. 

I’m really hoping it’s not true, anyway.

To be honest, even if it advertises itself as coed, I'm only one of three guys in the team. The rest are all girls. I don’t mind it but I guess that’s how it keeps itself free of the kind of guys that are attracted to some of the other sports.

I’ll tell you how everything goes.

I also looked into whether there was any art club in the school and I found something pretty interesting. There’s not an “official” art club per se, there were some funding issues and the one they had before was a victim of the cut. But, there is something. After classes end, the art teacher usually leaves the door to his class unlocked and hangs around there, not saying anything when students slink in to work on their own personal projects or even when they just choose to sit in a corner with a book or their walkmans.

Not everyone stays everyday and neither do I, but I do drop by sometimes when I don’t have volleyball with Jane. I really like it, it’s pretty quiet and everyone has this unspoken rule to pretty much keep to themselves.

You will probably find it funny that I found a place with people that I’m similar to in some ways and I haven’t even talked to any of them. There was a girl with dark hair and glasses like yours that whipped out The Sillmarillion out of her bag and sat reading in a corner behind some of the canvases. The way she reminded me at the same time of you and of myself felt like serendipity in the moment, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Since you’re so worried about my reactions to your bits, here’s a little breakdown for you:

• Yes, my face probably turned red at the joke you made about the letters being long and thick. And no, that’s not my mind going to the gutter when you acknowledge explicitly in the moment that you’re going for that. You know exactly what you’re doing. 

• I did find the post office bit funny but in that way that made me roll my eyes. You’re ridiculous. Unfortunately for me, I like that.

• Since you wanted to hear it so bad: Shut up, Richie. (Don’t actually.)

How’s that for feedback? I’m always willing to review any of your jokes as long as that’s what you want.

I hope to hear from you soon. Maybe we’ll get to test those phones soon, I don’t know if you have yours yet.

Yours, Will.

P.S: Jonathan took a picture of me and Jane together in our new volleyball uniforms and I thought maybe you’d like to see that so I sent a copy inside the envelope. I know it’s not the same as a cheer one but you’ll have to settle. This way you also get to see Jane’s induction into the family via haircut, now our bangs match! Maybe this is why people have been assuming we’re twins?

Will breathed in the heavy air, choking on the thick spores and the smell of ozone, both things sticking to his throat in a cloying layer that made his lungs seize and his stomach roil.

His eyes burned from the cold as he squeezed them shut and then opened them again as he peeked through the twilight, illuminated only by scarce flashes of red lightning.

He could feel panic gripping him, nausea climbing. A horrible need to claw at his throat to breathe better.

He focused on breathing through his nose, on filling his lungs slowly even as he still did so with the oppressive and contaminated air around him. 

This wasn’t real.

He heaved.

He wasn't here anymore, this wasn't real.

It was as if he was pushing with his own mind, trying to shove at the edges of this nightmare.

Fuck off, he was not there anymore. He was not going through this again.

Will could feel the awareness that this was a dream spreading through him. It was as clear to him as if he was awake. Somehow it didn’t do anything to put him at ease and it very much did not wake him.

He held onto whatever memories he could to stay the cold. Images of his friends and his family flashed behind his eyelids as he begged his body to wake up.

This sucked for now, but once he was awake he would be fine, he could even try calling Richie if he was still feeling shaken.

Thinking that made him feel warm, the other boy's dark eyes flitting across his mind.

If only he could see him, rather than just hear him. 

Who knew if Richie was also having a nightmare right now? One that Will couldn’t even help him with all the way from California.

He could feel the longing pierce through him, so sharply that he barely noticed the way the ground shook simultaneously before it ripped open in cracks, glowing red and ominous as they extended towards a house ahead that seemed vaguely familiar. 

He stepped forward, tugged subconsciously towards it even as he felt his body grow colder with each step, a feeling of wrongness coating every inch of his insides.

Will fought against it, reaching desperately into his mind, trying to pull at the warmth he had felt when he had thought of Richie.

He felt a pressure mounting in his head, until it popped and the sky cracked open.

It was like he was seeing two images at the same time; the familiar house he had been approaching bathed in the blue darkness that he associated with the upside down and another house, in a similar state of disrepair but different, set under a sky that was gloomy and threatening but somehow still seemed to belong to their world.

He stepped forward again, following a different pull now and when he reached the front door the image collapsed into one, leaving only the newer house, the surroundings of which Will couldn't place as belonging to Hawkins at all.

Though he didn't feel much better about this place than the one before, he still opened the door. Whatever called him in here felt drastically different. It felt less like plunging in a cold lake and sinking to the bottom and more like swimming through one to get to the other side. Like there was something at the other end he had to get to, something important.

As soon as he stepped through the threshold, the door banged shut behind him and the walls opened like seams, showing rows of twisting teeth that grew into the guts of the house like hallways.

Despite the fear and revulsion the sight evoked in Will, he found himself stepping into one, doing his best to avoid being nicked by the teeth which seemed viscous and oozing in a way he didn't want to think too hard about. 

The pull was stronger now, like there was something here calling him, or maybe something he was calling out for? 

He walked faster and faster, contorting his body to keep away from the walls as he took turn after turn until he collided against another body.

He reached his hands out, holding onto the forearms of the person he had crashed against and as he raised his gaze, he was met with Richie's wide eyes, made even larger by his glasses.

It was like time had stopped as they both breathed in, their eyes dragging over the other in disbelief before they collided back against each other in a fierce and desperate embrace.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?" Richie whispered against Will's shoulder where he had buried his face.

Will didn’t have anything better to say, choosing instead to cling frantically to Richie’s shirt, bunching the fabric between his hands where it rested over the other boy’s back.

He didn’t understand what was happening but everything was fine now. The nightmare was over.

His heartbeat slowed down and he let everything fade away around him as he focused only on the feeling of Richie against him, until he talked again.

“Holy shit,” he said, and Will raised his head without pulling away from Richie's arms, watching as everything around them actually disintegrated, turning into spore-like specks before floating away and leaving them standing alone in an entirely black void.

He pulled slightly away, just to be able to take the sight of Richie in but without loosening his hold on him in the slightest.

Their eyes met again and he could see in Richie’s a mirror of his own shocked confusion before he was-

Before he was thrust back into his body, startling awake suddenly, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as he blinked repeatedly, struggling to reconcile the dream with reality.

That had felt so real, it was like he could still feel Richie’s body heat against his chest, under his hands.

He let himself sink back for a second against the mattress, trying to process, but not even a second after, the phone was ringing silently, making the cheap plastic casing vibrate over his nightstand.

He grabbed for it quickly before Richie could have time to hang up after the first ring, not patient enough to even call back right after.

“Okay, good, you’re awake,” Richie breathed over the line and Will could hear clearly how shaken he was too. “You would not believe what I just dreamt."

Will reached a trembling hand up to his face, towards the wetness he could feel under his nose and dragged his fingers across, pulling them away and into the small sliver of moonlight that painted the room through his window to reveal they were now stained with blood.

“Huh,” Will said. “I think I might.”